Jervis adjusted his burgundy suit jacket as he walked alongside Alice toward the waiting limousine, the quarterly meeting's mundane financial discussions still echoing in his mind. The night air carried the familiar scents of Gotham's industrial district—exhaust fumes and distant factory smoke mixing with the perpetual dampness that clung to the city's streets. Streetlights cast long shadows between the buildings, and the distant glow of neon signs painted the wet pavement in shifting colors.
His phone buzzed against his chest.
Jervis pulled the device from his inner pocket, expecting another routine notification. Instead, his blood chilled as he read the alert: **FIRE ALARM ACTIVATED - HATTER'S PRODUCTIONS**.
"What is it?" Alice asked, noticing his sudden stillness.
Without answering, Jervis's fingers moved quickly across the screen, accessing the security app that connected him to the network of cameras throughout his facility. The loading icon spun for what felt like an eternity before the feeds poputed.
His breath caught.
The exterior cameras showed his girls—*his little Alices*—clustered on the sidewalk like sheep. But they weren't alone. Standing among them was a figure that made his skin crawl: tall, imposing, dressed entirely in dark tactical gear that gave him the silhouette of some nightmare creature. *What the hell is that thing?* The man stood perfectly still, a guardian watching over what belonged to Jervis.
Jervis's thumb swiped frantically between camera feeds. Interior guards slumped unconscious against walls. Waylon's massive form y motionless on the pavement, a dark stain spreading beneath him.
*Someone is destroying my kingdom.*
His hands shook slightly as he scrolled to his contacts and selected a number saved simply as "Insurance." The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
"Yeah?"
"My business is being infiltrated," Jervis said, his voice tight with controlled rage.
"Okay, we got you."
The line went dead.
Jervis slipped the phone back into his jacket and turned to Alice, who was watching him with sharp, curious eyes. Despite the chaos unfolding on his screens, he managed to summon his usual theatrical tone.
"It looks like my little Alices are trying to leave Wondernd," he said, gesturing toward the limousine. "We can't have that happen, can we, Alice?"
Alice's lips curved into a cold smile that matched the calcution in her eyes. "No, we can't."
---
The girls scattered around the sidewalk looked nervous and confused. Some huddled together in small groups, others stood alone, all of them still processing what had just happened. Maya clutched her stuffed rabbit tighter. Sarah kept looking back at the building like she expected guards to come pouring out at any moment.
47 stood perfectly still beside her, his imposing figure a silent guardian watching the street for threats. Even in his intimidating gear, Selina could sense his alertness—the way his head tilted slightly at distant sounds, how his posture remained rexed yet ready.
"What happens now?" whispered Bethany, tears still streaming down her face as she held Lucretia's hand.
Before Selina could answer, 47 touched his cowl. She couldn't hear what he was receiving through his comm, but his stance shifted slightly. More alert.
"Time to go," he said quietly.
Selina nodded and looked up at the empty night sky above them. This was her moment—the pn she'd coordinated with him days ago.
"Decloak," she called out, her voice carrying clearly over the wailing fire arm.
The night air above them shimmered.
Gasps and cries of amazement erupted from the girls as something massive materialized out of thin air, hovering silently about thirty feet overhead.
*There it is,* Selina thought with satisfaction. The transformation was even more impressive seeing it in action than it had been watching 47 work on it at the base. What had started as that broken-down Trailways bus from the junkyard—paint peeling, windows cracked, tires rotted—was now something that belonged in the future.
"Holy shit," Maya breathed, her stuffed rabbit forgotten as she stared upward.
"Is that really flying?" Sarah whispered.
"How is that possible?" Bethany asked, her tears temporarily forgotten.
The sleek bck aircraft descended slowly, its nding struts extending as it settled onto the asphalt with barely a whisper. She could still make out the familiar curve of the old bus's roof, but everything else had been transformed—matte bck surfaces, reinforced windows, propulsion systems where wheels used to be.
*Amazing how he converted that old wreck into something this useful,* Selina thought, remembering the hours she'd spent watching him strip out the rusted interior and install the new systems.
Hydraulic doors hissed open along the side, revealing a softly lit interior that looked nothing like the gutted shell it had been. Comfortable seating, clean surfaces, everything designed for passenger safety and comfort.
47 turned toward the group of stunned girls, his voice cutting through their amazed chatter. "Time to go," he repeated.
Selina smiled despite everything they'd been through tonight. "You heard him," she called out, her voice carrying the same calm authority that had guided them through the evacuation. "Everyone aboard."
The girls moved toward the converted bus, their fear repced by wonder and amazement.---
47 stood beside the converted aircraft as the st group of girls climbed aboard, their whispered conversations mixing with the soft hum of the vehicle's systems. From his position by the open door, he could see Maya settling into one of the padded seats near the front, still clutching her stuffed rabbit. Sarah was helping guide two of the younger girls to seats by the reinforced windows. The interior lighting cast a warm glow over faces that were finally beginning to show something other than fear.
Selina stood next to him, watching as the girls found their seats. He could see her doing a quick mental headcount, her eyes sweeping across the interior from her position by the door.
She paused, her brow furrowing, and 47 knew she'd realized what was missing.
"47," she said, still watching the girls settling in. "Where is Tammy?"
He gnced at her with a slight smile in his voice. "I was wondering how long it would take you to realize she was missing."
He could see the concern fsh across Selina's face. After everything they'd been through tonight, after the careful pnning and precise execution of the rescue, she was probably wondering if they'd somehow lost the girl who had started it all.
"What do you mean? Where is she?" Selina asked.
Instead of answering immediately, 47 walked to the front of the aircraft and looked up at the abandoned building across the street. The structure loomed dark against the night sky, its broken windows like hollow eyes staring back at him.
"Are you going to stay up there all night, or are you coming down?" he called out, his voice carrying easily across the empty street.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then 47 spotted movement near one of the upper floors—a shadow shifting behind a broken window. The distinctive silhouette of someone climbing down the external fire escape.
He crossed his arms and waited patiently as the figure descended, metal rungs cnging softly in the night air. He heard Selina's footsteps as she joined him at the front of the aircraft, her confusion giving way to curiosity as the person climbing down became clearer.
A young woman with spiky red hair, maybe early twenties, wearing a worn leather jacket and carrying what looked like professional camera equipment. She moved with the confident grace of someone who spent a lot of time in high pces. When she reached the bottom of the fire escape, she looked directly at 47 with sharp, intelligent eyes.
But she wasn't alone.
Behind her, moving more cautiously down the same fire escape, was a familiar figure that 47 knew would bring Selina relief. Blonde hair catching the streetlight, moving carefully but determinedly down the metal rungs.
Tammy.
The girl reached the ground and immediately broke into a run, her feet pounding against the asphalt as she sprinted across the street. She bypassed 47 entirely and threw herself into Selina's arms with enough force to nearly knock her over.
"I'm so gd you got us out of there," Tammy said, her voice muffled against Selina's shoulder. "I'm happy now. I'm so happy to see you."
47 watched as Selina held her tightly, and he could see the tension that had been building in her finally begin to release. "Yeah, well, your mother was really worried about you," Selina said.
Tammy pulled back slightly, her eyes wide and hopeful. "My mom?"
"Yeah. We're going to take you to see her. That's where we're taking you."
47 observed tears beginning to stream down Tammy's face, but for the first time since he'd been aware of her situation, they looked like tears of joy rather than fear or desperation. Selina guided her toward the aircraft, one arm around her shoulders.
"Come on," Selina said gently. "Let's get you home."
As Selina helped Tammy board the aircraft, 47 turned his attention to the young woman who had been watching the reunion with quiet interest. She stood a few feet away, camera bag slung over her shoulder, studying him with the focused attention of someone accustomed to observing details.
"I don't know who you are," she said, taking a step closer, "but my name is Carrie Kelley, and I was hired to find you. Or whoever was interfering with the criminals in Gotham. From what I saw tonight, I have a strong suspicion that's you."
47 didn't respond immediately, his masked gaze measuring her carefully. Everything about her posture and tone suggested she was telling the truth, but trust wasn't something he gave easily.
"Yes," he said finally.
"Who hired you?" he asked.
"I'm not really sure," Carrie admitted, running a hand through her hair. "All I know is that I don't feel like I should be working for them anymore."
47 studied her for another long moment. The way she'd been positioned in that building, the professional camera equipment, the fact that she'd been watching the operation unfold—all of it suggested someone with investigative training. But her willingness to abandon a paying client based on what she'd witnessed spoke to something more than professional competence.
"Okay," he said.
"But here's the deal," Carrie continued, her voice gaining confidence. "I don't really know that much about you, but from what I've seen tonight and my gut feeling, you're one of the good guys. I'd like to know more about you. I'd like to get in contact with you."
"Why should I do that?" 47 asked.
Carrie looked back at the building where girls had been imprisoned, where nightmares had been manufactured for profit, then back at him. "Because I feel like whatever you're doing—really doing—I want to be a part of it."
47 considered this. In the aircraft behind him, he could hear Selina's voice mixing with the quiet conversations of the rescued girls who were free for the first time in years. The mission had been a success, but it was just one building in a city full of predators. One victory in a war that would require many more battles.
"I'll think about it," he said.
Carrie reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, extending it toward him. "This is my number."
47 took the card, gncing at it briefly before slipping it into a compartment on his utility belt. "Okay. I'll let you know."
He turned and walked toward the aircraft. The hydraulic doors began to close with a soft hiss as he settled into the pilot's seat. Through the reinforced windows, Carrie could see him moving through what looked like a complex startup sequence.
The aircraft lifted off vertically with barely a whisper of sound, rising smoothly into the Gotham night. It hovered for a moment thirty feet above the street, and Carrie could make out the faces of some of the girls pressed against the windows, looking down at the life they were leaving behind.
---
Carrie tilted her head back and watched the sleek bck aircraft climb higher into the night sky, its form growing smaller against the backdrop of Gotham's distant skyscrapers. The soft hum of its propulsion systems faded until the only sounds were the distant traffic and the gradually quieting wail of the fire arm from Hatter's Productions.
Then, between one moment and the next, the aircraft simply vanished.
Not crashed, not hidden behind clouds—just gone, as if it had never existed at all. The night sky showed nothing but stars and the faint glow of the city's light pollution.
*Cloaking technology,* she realized, her investigative mind immediately trying to process what she'd had witnessed twice. *Real, actual cloaking technology.*
She stood there in the empty street, camera bag still slung over her shoulder, trying to absorb everything that had happened in the st hour. The systematic takedown of professional security. The precision rescue of the girls. The flying vehicle that could turn invisible. The man in the tactical gear who moved like a ghost and fought like a machine.
*I don't know who that guy is,* she thought, finally lowering her gaze from the empty sky, *but I feel like Gotham just got a little bit stranger.*
She thought about her anonymous client, whoever was paying her to track down the person disrupting the city's criminal networks. Thought about the stack of energy drink cans and protein bar wrappers she'd left on that rooftop after days of documenting horrors. Thought about Tim, probably grading papers right now, trusting her to make the right choices.
*But maybe better,* she decided, pulling out her phone to call Tim. *Maybe Gotham just got better.*
As she scrolled to his number, Carrie couldn't shake the feeling that everything in her life had just changed. She'd spent years chasing insurance fraudsters and cheating spouses, documenting the small betrayals that made up most of a private investigator's work. But tonight she'd seen something different. Someone willing to risk everything to save people who couldn't save themselves.
Someone fighting the kind of war that actually mattered.
The phone rang twice before Tim's familiar voice answered. "Carrie? How did it go tonight?"
She looked back at the building where the fire arm was still going, then up at the sky where impossible things flew invisible through the darkness.
"Tim," she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice, "I think I met someone that's going to change a lot in Gotham."
